I steeled my back and took a deep breath. I’d dealt with abuse and accusations before. This was nothing new. Leo pushed past her and extracted Macy’s sleeping body from my arms.
“Cut it out, Carly. She’s fine, for fuck’s sake.”
“I leave for an hour, and you drop your daughter into the arms of some club whore?”
“Carly,” Leo growled through his teeth. “Go.” He cradled his daughter in one arm and pointed toward the door with the other. His sister-in-law huffed and turned for the door, but not before throwing me a disgusted look over her shoulder. I stayed silent, waiting for the door to close before I let out the frustrated breath I’d been holding.
I could have defended myself. I could’ve told the woman she was wrong and demanded that she not call me a whore.But really, how wrong was she?There was no point in arguing with a family member. I would always come off second best. Family came first here, and for once I felt like I might be wrong. Maybe I wasn’t included in that equation.
Leo had kept me up half the night, keeping his promise to come back and thank me for looking after Macy. He’d thanked me more than once and I’d thanked him a few times too.
I walked away from my morning class feeling accomplished. I was a little tired, but I’d handed in my paper and I was feeling pretty damn happy about how it turned out. Music had been my passion since I was a baby. My mom couldn’t sing to save herself, but she worked as a publicist for some pretty prominent bands. We had moved around a lot when I was younger as some of the bands asked her to be on the road with them. She still had a lot to do with the music industry, working now for a famous rock band calledAshes and Embers. I’d even met a couple of the band members, they were amazing guys.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to check the caller and smiled.
Speak of the Devil.
“Hi, Mama.”
“How’s my beautiful girl today?” she chimed.
“I’m good. How’s things with you?” I tucked the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I searched my school bag for the keys to my little Honda Civic.
My mom sighed. “Things are good. These boys are keeping me on my toes, that’s for sure.” I laughed and opened my car door. A rush of heat hit me, the downside of having a black car in summer. Geez, did it get hot. I opened the door wide and opted to stand beside it, hoping that it would cool down a few degrees before I attempted to drive.
“They up to mischief again?” My mom’s laughter tinkled trough the phone and suddenly I felt a sad feeling in the bottom of my stomach. I missed her. Like crazy. “So Storm found himself a pretty girl. Think this one’s a keeper.” I laughed at the small twinge of disappointment in her voice. I knew she was happy for him. Storm was a member of the bandAshes and Embers,and he was a great guy. But my mother had all these ideas about how we would be perfect for each other. Her matchmaking abilities were pretty crap if we're honest.
“How’s the fan base taking that one?”
I could practically see her cringe through the telephone. “A lot of crushed dreams. I’m imagining girls all over the world are screaming, crying and mourning the loss of his single status.”
I giggled, not doubting that for a minute. “I’m happy for him. I hope I can catch up with you all soon.”
“Me too, sweetie.”
I had chatted with her for a bit before I realized I was probably running late. I was meeting Chelsea at the mall to get some lunch and grab a new outfit for tonight. The boys from the Troy, Alabama chapter, had ridden in from down south this morning. And once all the family festivities were done, the men were going to be ready to let loose with a few stiff drinks and a nice piece of ass.
“I gotta go, Mom. I’m meeting Chelsea for lunch. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Love you.”
“I love you too, Mama.”
My mom wasn’t fully aware of my part within the club. She knew I lived at the clubhouse, and she knew I wasn’t just there cooking and cleaning for the men. But my mom had seen a lot in her time working with famous bands and I’m pretty sure she would have stories that even I would think were crazy. She loved me, and she trusted me to do what I felt was best.
It had only ever been my mom and me. My father took off when I was born. I had no idea who he was, nor did I care to know. I’d watched my mom go through men like underwear as I grew up. Groupies, band managers, a couple drummers and a lead guitarist or two. They never stuck around for long and my mom was always an emotional wreck when they left her. I’d gotten attached to a few of them. They’d fueled my love for music, some even teaching me their craft. For that, I was grateful. But in the end they were just another guy who walked away.
My life somewhat reflected that of my mother. While the men of the MC were constants in my life and had been for a long time. Every time one of them walked into my room, I knew he was just going to turn around and walk straight back out after he’d gotten what he wanted. Knowing they were going to walk away was strangely comforting. That’s what I expected of them. It’s what I knew. I’d watched men walk away my whole life. I’d also watched my mother break down when they did.
I wouldn’t let myself have that weakness. I’d never pleaded with the men for something more; I never expected a relationship or exclusivity. And if we're honest, none of them had ever offered or seemed interested.
I loved my men. I cared about them. I worried about them. I wanted to make them happy. But I could do that all without being tied down, and without having to worry about the risk of falling in love before he up and left. I didn’t have to risk my heart in order to be a part of their lives.
I found Chelsea at a small café in the mall, sipping coffee and fending off a man who didn’t seem to be taking a hint from Chelsea’s bored expression. He was tall and well presented. Also a little on the older side, maybe in his late forties.
“Just a phone number. That’s all I’m asking for, beautiful,” his voice was slick and smooth and I can imagine the tone would have worked wonders with many women, young and old.
She screwed up her nose at his attempt at endearment. “I said no. Now shoo.” She waved him off. Chel always goes on about how she wants her prince to come, but when it comes down to it she loves a dirty talking bad boy just as much as the rest of us.